Murder Most Meow: A Hazel Hart Cozy Mystery Four

by Louise Lynn

  She climbed out of the truck and took Anthony Ray with her because she doubted the sheriff would mind.

  When she stepped in, Edith, the ancient secretary with a hairdo from the sixties, raised both of her drawn-on eyebrows and thumbed toward the back. “The sheriff and those kids are in interrogation room A. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?”

  Hazel wished she’d brought Ethel a muffin considering how much the woman liked Esther’s treats. “Yeah, thanks. Is Angela Dane here?”

  “Not that I know of. She was earlier, but she didn’t stick around. Stormed off in a huff. Nasty woman, if you ask me.”

  Hazel hurried to the interrogation room and knocked once before she opened the door.

  Violet was in tears, staring at a sopping pile of items on the table in the middle of the room. Sheriff Cross stood in the corner, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “I didn’t do anything, tell him, Hazel. I’m innocent!” Violet cried.

  “What is this stuff?” Hazel said and stepped up to the table.

  The only item she recognized was a wig, the same one she’d seen floating in Lake Celeste yesterday. It was long and auburn and similar enough to Angela Dane’s actual hair, if not for the lake water, that someone could’ve used it to impersonate her, Hazel thought.

  The other items were some crumpled pieces of paper and an oversized cable cutter.

  That last one looked like the murder weapon. Sharp enough to cut through several inches of thick cable, though whoever used it had to have a decent amount of strength. Those cables were built to be sturdy.

  “What the deputies dredged out of the lake. And Darcy Allen is the one who tossed it there, but I can’t talk to him without his parents present, so this is where we’re at,” he said and motioned around the room.

  Hazel frowned at both of them. “Violet, do you know what any of this stuff is?”

  Violet shook her head mutely, her red-rimmed eyes wide. “No. I never even saw this bag in the costume tent. Ever! Ask Farrah! And that wig—it could belong to the costume department, but I don’t know. They have a ton of wigs.”

  “Okay, Colton, do you think your niece is a killer?”

  Sheriff Cross opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “I can’t have a personal opinion and be a good detective.”

  “Hogs wash! I knew my mother wasn’t a killer, and I think you know Violet isn’t either.” Hazel pinched her lips into a line. “Okay, this is ridiculous. I can’t stand in the middle of you two any longer. Violet, tell your uncle what happened when you snuck out. Now! I’m not keeping secrets for you any longer. And Colton, you listen. Don’t judge her and don’t make mincing little decisions about what she can and can’t do with her time. She’s fifteen, and you need to protect her, but you also need to let her grow up. Please. She feels stifled, and you feel overwhelmed. You guys both need to bend a little to make this work.”

  Violet blinked, and Sheriff Cross did the same thing. His mouth fell open, and Violet’s tears stopped.

  Then Sheriff Cross’s expression softened, if only slightly, and he looked at Violet. “When did you sneak out?” he asked in an even tone.

  Which, was a lot better than him raising his voice, Hazel decided. Even though she could tell by the way his jaw tightened that he was annoyed—either at Violet or Hazel herself, she wasn’t sure.

  Maybe at both of them.

  Violet scrubbed the tears from her face and explained what she told Hazel the day before. Though with a worried glance in Hazel’s direction, she added a detail Hazel hadn’t heard yet.

  “Yesterday, on the pier, Darcy told me he knew I was the one who did it, but that he’d protect me. I didn’t know what he was talking about. And then he threw this bag in the water, and I just thought he was being weird and creepy. I didn’t think he actually thought I killed somebody. You believe me, don’t you, Uncle Colton?” she pleaded and new tears filled her eyes.

  Sheriff Cross looked like he had a throbbing headache, and he rubbed his temples and sucked in a breath through his nose. “Did he say where he got the bag?”

  Violet shook her head. “No, but it’s not mine.”

  Hazel leaned across the table and looked at the pieces of paper. They were unlined, and thick. It looked like they came out of a journal from the raggedly torn edge. They’d been written on with a fountain pen and the ink bled so much they were impossible to read now. “Any idea what this is supposed to be?”

  Sheriff Cross shrugged. “No, and the cable cutters don’t have any prints on them. Like I said, we’re waiting for Darcy’s parents to get here so he can clear this up. If possible.”

  Hazel nodded. “Is it against the law for anyone to question him or just official police detectives?”

  Sheriff Cross got a certain gleam in his blue eyes. “Well, you aren’t an official part of this investigation, and if he agrees to talk to you, it’s legally allowed. Though, you’ll have to hurry. His parents will be here any minute.”

  Hazel felt a grim smile pulling at her lips, and she nodded. “I need to borrow this, if you don’t mind,” she said and pointed at the objects on the table.

  Sheriff Cross re-packed them.

  Then, Hazel marched next door into room B, dumped the items on the table, and looked at Darcy square in the eye.

  He was as pale as a ghost, and his sweaty flop of hair had dried to his forehead at some point. He tugged at the hem of his festival T-shirt and swallowed heavily. “I—I—”

  “Did you kill Dominic Dane?” Hazel asked.

  Darcy Allen shook his head frantically. “No. I swear. I thought Violet did it, and I was only trying to protect her. That’s why I threw the bag in the lake. I’ve been trying to tell her that I didn’t care because he was such a jerk and he deserved it so–”

  “This isn’t yours? Do you know who they belong to?” she said and narrowed her eyes.

  “They aren’t mine. I swear. I didn’t cut the cable. I was looking for Violet the whole time. I wanted to watch the play with her, and I couldn’t find her. I have someone who can vouch for me! Farrah. I was in the costume tent, and I was hanging around almost the entire production. Even before the play started, I swear,” he said quickly, eyes wide and pleading.

  Hazel nodded slowly. “And why did you think Violet was the one to do this? Just because you didn’t see her during that production?”

  Tears filled Darcy’s eyes, and he swept them away with the back of his hand. “Because I saw someone with long dark red hair hanging around near the ladder before the play. Then I found the wig afterwards. That night, I guess she’d already gone home, but I thought maybe she would be in the costume tent, and she wasn’t, but this bag was there. It had these notes in it and—I was trying to protect her!”

  Now Hazel saw why Sheriff Cross always pinched his nose and rubbed his temples. Dealing with suspects, especially teenage suspects, was enough to give someone a migraine. “So you tampered with evidence in order to protect her? That’s a crime, Darcy. But, the sheriff might be lenient on you if you can tell me a little bit more about who you saw near the ladder that night,” she said and carefully sat down.

  Darcy shrugged. “I don’t know. They had long red hair, and I guess it could’ve been Angela Dane. It was about the same length and she was wearing a costume. But it was dark, so I didn’t get to see them well. And then after he died, I figured maybe Violet disguised herself to kill him. For some reason.”

  “And the letters?”

  “They were love letters.” His jaw tightened as he said it.

  Hazel had a feeling she should hurry. Sheriff Cross said it was only moments before his parents arrived, and they probably wouldn’t be happy about Hazel talking to their son unaccompanied, even if it was necessary. But at least Darcy had been transparent so far. “Were they signed?”

  “No. Well, not with a name. They were addressed to ‘Dom’ and said ‘from your flower.’ So, I thought of Violet.”

  His reasoning wasn’t wrong, but she dou
bted Violet had written them. And it gave her another idea. “That vanity in Dominic Dane’s tent, do you know where it came from?”

  Darcy stiffened, and his eyes widened. “It was from our house. It used to be in the spare bedroom, but they needed furniture for the actor’s tents and put that in his. Why?” he asked and glanced at his lap.

  Yeah, he definitely knew something that he wasn’t telling.

  Hazel leaned across the table. “There was a hidden drawer in the vanity, I think you know something about it. Did you know anything about the pictures that were inside it? A picture of Violet, for example?”

  Darcy bit his bottom lip so hard Hazel was afraid it might bleed. Then he let out a strangled cry and balled his hands into fists. “I put it there, okay? I was trying to—Violet was in Dominic’s fan club online, and I found that picture on her Instagram account. My dad saw it too, and thought if we made it look like Dominic was a really bad person, he’d get fired.”

  Hazel wrinkled her nose. “You’re saying you planted the photos in Dominic’s dressing room to get him fired from the festival because your dad asked you to?”

  Darcy nodded quickly. “My dad said they’d think he was a total perv and get rid of him. The festival has a thing about it in the bylaws. And you don’t know what it’s like. I mean, my parents have been fighting about this stupid festival for ages. Ever since my dad decided to direct it. It’s all they talk about, and then they spent so much money to get Dominic Dane here, and all that’s been happening is making everything worse instead of better between them. So my dad said, if Dominic got fired, my parents would get the money back, and everything would go back to normal. Is it against the law?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  Hazel shrugged, she didn’t think framing someone was legal, but it hadn’t actually hurt anyone—besides startling Violet.

  “You know, it looks bad that you forged messages on the back of those pictures, but yet you claim you didn’t plant this other evidence. The police might have a hard time believing you.”

  Darcy’s head snapped up, and his eyes turned into saucers. “I wrote messages on the pictures, printed them out and put them in the drawer. I swear, I’ll admit to everything I did wrong, but I didn’t kill Dominic. Like I said, talk to Farrah. I—I’m sorry about all of it. I thought I could make things better and then…”

  Hazel sighed. “I’ll talk to the sheriff about it,” she said and left the room.

  When she did, she noticed Christopher and Sophia Allen arguing with the sheriff.

  “What is this? Are you arresting our son?” Sophia demanded. When the woman saw Violet, she raised a finger and pointed. “Her. She’s the one that killed Dom, and yet you arrest our innocent son? If that isn’t nepotism in action, I don’t know what is.”

  Sheriff Cross shook his head. “I haven’t arrested your son. I haven’t even questioned him, per your wishes. But, considering I’m investigating a murder, I need to talk to everyone who was there that night. I’m sure you understand.”

  “What’s this about Violet being the killer?” Christopher Allen said and scoffed.

  Sophia’s face reddened, and she swept her long red hair over her shoulder. “Oh, because she’s young she couldn’t kill someone? Don’t you watch the news?”

  Christopher rolled his eyes. “She was backstage the entire production. I saw her. She never climbed that ladder.”

  The look on Sophia’s face turned murderous, and Hazel thought the woman might scream.

  Instead, Sheriff Cross stepped between them and turned to Mr. Allen. “If you saw Violet and can account for her whereabouts, why didn’t you come forward sooner?”

  Christopher threw his hands in the air. “I didn’t know she was a suspect! And what about Darcy?”

  Sheriff Cross’s stance went rigid, and Hazel took that moment to step forward. “He didn’t do it either. But, you may need to have a word with your son.”

  “I thought the sheriff didn’t question him?” Sophia said, her voice full of disdain.

  “He didn’t. Darcy talked to me willingly,” Hazel said and crossed her arms. She met Sophia’s vicious stare head on. “And I think you need to explain why you were trying to get Dominic Dane fired, Mr. Allen.”

  Christopher Allen paled. “I—what? Darcy told you about the pictures?”

  Sheriff Cross’s eyes widened as he looked between them.

  Sophia glowered. “What pictures?”

  Christopher Allen didn’t open his mouth to explain, so Hazel did. When she was done, Sophia swatted her husband in the arm.

  “This is about L.A, isn’t it? You’re always trying to ruin things for me! First, you move me here, then you try to get the star of the festival fired! Do you want my entire life to be miserable?” she cried.

  Christopher Allen ducked his chin to his chest. “No! I was trying to get our money back. Did you want to sell the house and move into a shack? I think not. I was trying to do what was best for everyone,” he said and looked utterly miserable.

  “By enlisting your son to do your dirty work? I don’t think the council will like this,” Sheriff Cross said in a low grumble.

  “I—I know it was stupid, and it didn’t even work! Please, just let us finish the final performance and then you can tell them anything you want. I’m ruined either way, but at least the whole festival doesn’t have to go down with me,” Christopher said, his voice raw and pleading.

  Hazel blinked. She’d never heard him sound so desperate before. Sure, he was always stressed about the festival going off well, but she didn’t know he cared about it this deeply.

  “Fine, but I don’t think you’ll be directing any more plays for the town after this,” Sheriff Cross said and shook his head.

  Christopher Allen muttered a thank you.

  Sophia looked ready to say something more, but Christopher put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. She threw him off and marched outside in a huff.

  A few minutes later, Darcy Allen joined his father, though he threw a sorry glance in Hazel’s direction as he was ushered outside.

  The way they were bickering, Hazel had a feeling their marital problems stemmed from more than just this festival and one actor. Darcy mentioned they’d had problems in L.A. before they moved here.

  Not to mention Dominic sneaking around with Sophia on at least one occasion. There could be more to that than they knew. Not to mention, Sophia called the man ‘Dom’ when everyone else, save his wife, called him ‘Dominic.’

  Sheriff Cross stood next to her and watch them go. “So, you think Darcy is telling the truth?”

  Hazel nodded slowly. “He was trying to protect Violet, albeit poorly. And if what Darcy said was true, we’re looking for someone with long red hair. You’re not going to blame this on Esther now, are you?”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t know. I’ve accused you and your mother of murder, so I might as well go for the whole family.”

  Hazel nudged him playfully in the arm. “I’m pretty sure Esther was in the audience when it happened, so she has a solid alibi. It does narrow it down to someone with red hair with a good motive to want Dominic dead.”

  Sheriff Cross nodded slowly. “Yeah, and I think you have an idea who it could’ve been?”

  Hazel licked her lips. “I don’t have any proof yet, so I’m not sure I want to say. But I think Sophia Allen was having an affair with Dominic Dane, and I don’t think Dominic’s wife liked that very much.”

  Sheriff Cross frowned. “She does have long red hair…”

  “And a motive,” Hazel finished.

  Chapter 19

  “You think Angela Dane is a murderer?” Michael said, his brown eyes wide. “But I loved her in those Lord of the Halo movies.”

  Hazel held a finger to her lips. “Keep it down. I’m not supposed to say anything, I don’t think.”

  This whole ‘working together with the sheriff’s office’ thing took some getting used to. The last case was a bit different since there hadn’t be
en a whole mess of tourists and a festival involved.

  Her father’s bushy eyebrows danced above his eyes. “They do say it’s usually the spouse, but did she have a good motive?”

  Hazel nodded tightly. “You can’t tell anyone, promise?”

  They both nodded, and she let out a sigh.

  It was well after noon, creeping closer to dusk when the final performance of Macbeth was supposed to take place. Unfortunately, no one had seen Angela Dane since her trip to the Sheriff’s Office that morning. Which meant, their number one suspect was missing.

  Sheriff Cross had sent deputies to the house she was renting, but no one answered the door. He said something about getting a warrant, which was taking some time, and Hazel didn’t think breaking and entering was a great idea at this point.

  Michael chewed on his bottom lip. “Actually, now that you mention it, I guess it makes sense. I wouldn’t be happy married to that guy either. Especially with him cheating and everything,” he said the last part quietly, and Hazel snapped to attention.

  She’d been looking for proof of an affair, but short of actually asking Sophia Allen, she hadn’t gotten any.

  “Cheating?” she said.

  Michael’s cheeks reddened and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I saw. It was the night before he died. He was at Falstaff’s Folly with a woman. They were sitting outside the tent under a tree. First, I thought it was Angela Dane, so I was gonna approach and ask for an autograph, because like I said I really liked her in Lord of the Halos. Then, I noticed it wasn’t her. From a distance, they looked alike but close up, they didn’t.”

  Hazel wrinkled her nose. She’d seen Sophia Allen going into Dominic’s tent the other day, right before the man died. “Who was it? Please don’t say Esther.”

  Michael let out a snort, and her father laughed. “Esther? She has too much sense for that.”

  Michael nodded. “No, Esther didn’t even cross my mind. This was some other lady. I don’t know her name, but I’ve seen her around the festival. She’s usually with that guy you’re working for. The one who’s balding,” Michael said and gave her a sheepish smile.